Eyes
by Siah1
Summary: Teal eyes? I shook my head and laughed dryly at my foolishness. People don't have teal eyes. People don't walk in the middle of the dessert. And people definitely couldn't survive in this heat. No, It wasn't real. Just a mirage. Just my imagination. 'But,' I thought, biting my lip and refusing to look back because looking back might make it real, '…since when had Ihad a imagination
1. Eyes like the deep teal sea

"_Beyond the door there's peace I'm sure,  
And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven.…"_

Eric Clapton's voice drifted out of the radio and melted into the hot air as I drove my old green station wagon down the road. My bare feet stuck to the plastic gas pedal and the hot air hit my face as it came in from the open window.

"_Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?_

_Would it be the same if I saw you in heaven?"_

My voice mixed with the smooth melody. I tried to match the slow beat by tapping my fingers on the steering wheel but multi-tasking while driving had never been my strong suit and the beat came out more scattered then it should.

I sighed and looked sideways out the window to see the Arizona desert go by. The sky was turning a deep blue and purple and the stars filled the vast emptiness that seemed to go on forever. Never before had I seen such nothingness.

Growing up in Binary Galaxy didn't exactly give me the best views. Sure, there were "sights" and monuments but after seeing the same thing over and over again it all seemed so boring. So routine.

Not that I minded routine. No, in fact, I loved routine. I strived for order. I liked rules and regulations as well as procedures and structure.

But as I got older I found the city to be…suffocating.

It had been my mom's idea for me to take a road trip. She hadn't wanted me to go alone and my father hadn't wanted me to go at all but I was an only child and in the end they always seemed to let me do as I pleased. And leaving the city pleased me very much.

And so I left.

But unlike the spontaneous, free-spirited road-trip my mother had had in mind, I sat down and mapped out everywhere I wanted to go, which roads to take, when I could stop, how much gas it should take, and how much money I would need.

Responsible, my dad had complimented.

Too thought-out, my mom had complained.

Perfect, I had thought.

And it was perfect…at least written out.

I mean, I had it all planned perfectly. I would be traveling, seeing new, exciting things, right? That's what I needed. That was what I wanted.

But as I sat in the car, the music drowning out the sound of the engine and my voice soft and mimicking, I realized I wasn't having fun. The suffocating feeling I'd always had was still there and didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon.

Maybe if I did some of my school work for next year (I had hid it underneath my seat when my mom wasn't looking) I'd cool off. School was something I was good at unlike relaxing and traveling which obviously didn't come as naturally to me as most things did. But my next rest stop wasn't until another two hours, which meant I had to keep traveling to keep on schedule. So summer work wasn't really an option.

I sighed again and gripped the steering wheel a bit harder than necessary.

Relax, I told myself. This is supposed to be the time I loosen up, unwind.

But my fingers still gripped the wheel forcefully and despite the glorious desert around me and the vast open land, I knew I wouldn't be relaxing anytime soon. And more than likely I wouldn't be relaxing at all.

"Here you go young lady," An older woman, half asleep but still smiling slurred as she handed me my key for the night. I took it quickly, gave her a quick smile, and retreated back outside.

I found my room easily, the motel not being very big (or nice looking either). I unlocked my door and stepped inside. The lights, once turned on, were dim and slightly flickering. Both of the beds seemed dingy and dirty and hardly suitable for sleeping on.

Somehow I hadn't pictured my sleeping quarters to be so…inadequate. The last stop had been a bit nicer and a lot more sterile.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust and dropped my bag and purse onto the bed. I walked to what I could only assume, and hope, was the bathroom, and let myself in. And if I thought the room was grimy the bathroom put it to shame. I could practically see the bacteria on the slightly moldy tile.

"Well gross," I muttered. I decided, as I looked around, that my toothbrush was not touching any surface of this room, not even the sink. I'd hold it the whole time.

I reached and turned on the faucet (ew) and cupped my hands to get some water. Once my hands were full I splashed the water up onto my face and let the daylong drive be rinsed from my skin. Dust and sand from the desert still stained my face (no more open window for me) and I pouted at the mess I was.

My long brown hair, shiny and soft, was now tangled due to the wind and dull thanks to the dirt. A shower, despite how gross it might be inside the tub, was a must. The heat, which had thankfully died down at night, still left my pale cheeks flushed and my throat dry. I licked my parched lips and tried to unknot my hair from the ponytail it was in.

"This is hardly 'fun and free spirited'" I said darkly, mocking my mother's words. I felt even more annoyed and peeved at the disorder around me then I had been before I left Binary Galaxy. I had thought leaving the city would be my big change but obviously some changes weren't necessarily good.

Oh well, no turning back now. That wasn't in the plans.

I was going to see this through, no matter how crappy it might turn out.

I grimaced slightly at that thought as I stared dully into my muddy brown eyes. Out of all my features (my pale skin, my brown hair, my dark lashes, my dainty chin) my eyes were the thing that always made me feel…wrong.

In a world where all I wanted to do was live my boring life, blend in, and go to school, brown eyes seemed perfect. They were the last thing people usually noticed, they weren't outstanding or gorgeous but they weren't ugly. They were average. Ordinary.

So why did I feel like they didn't look right on my face?

Ever since I was a little girl I had always thought I had the wrong eye color…but that was stupid. Wrong eye color? That's not possible. Brown is what my genetics had picked out for me. So, why then did they not look right? Why, when I pictured myself, did my eyes not look brown?

I sighed, feeling foolish. Brown eyes were fine. They were normal. I was normal. See? No problem. It all went together. It all fit. Just like everything in my life, it fit and worked out perfectly.

Besides, if not brown, what color were my eyes supposed to be?

After showering and brushing my teeth (and taking care of other bathroom needs) I climbed into one of the beds. The mattress was stiff and the covers were thin. I tried to get comfortable but even the pillow felt too lumpy and I let out a frustrated sound.

This was annoying.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself in my room at home…but my imagination had never really been that good and within seconds I was flipping and twisting as I fought to find a comfortable position.

"Cashmire, honey, I worry about you," My mother had told me before I left. She was the only one who called me by my real name (she had picked it for me) and she was the only one I let get by with it. When she was young she had been a hippie (hence her excitement for my traveling and the bizarre name) and it killed her that I hadn't picked up on any of her relaxed tendencies. But despite how I had turned out, no matter what, I still had that funky name, a little memory of the carefree girl and personality I was intended to have.

"Don't worry about me mom," I had insisted, not understanding what there was to worry about. I was a great student, had lots of friends, and never missed curfew. I was a parent's dream. But unfortunately one of my parents had different dreams than the rest.

She just sighed and shook her head. Her eyes, vibrant and dark blue, got a far off look in them. I always called that look her "regret look" because she always got it when she thought of her past. Her exciting days of flowers and peace signs would fill her brain and then in an instant she'd remember she wasn't young anymore and she'd get sad. She'd look around and see the same old house in the busy city with bills on the table and dinner on the stove and then she'd realize her glory days were gone.

I had never really been sure what to do when she got that look, even after years of seeing it.

"I just don't want you to waste your childhood by trying to be an adult," She finally said once the 'regret look' had cleared from her eyes and she smiled sadly at me. I didn't say anything because I technically thought I wasn't living in my childhood anymore. I was grown up, seventeen, and no longer a kid, but I knew better than to say so. "I just want you to enjoy it while you can."

"That's what this trip is about, remember?" I reminded her, indicating to the list I had made of stuff I needed for my journey that was sitting in front of me on the table. "To get away from the city and relax."

"But I worry it's not the city that stresses you," She whispered, looking out the apartment window at the buildings around us. "I worry that no matter where you go you'll be stressed."

We'd had this discussion before. The one where we talked about how I spent too much time with school and work and mapping out my future. My mom thought all of that was the cause of my suffocating feeling but I knew it was the city. I knew I wasn't creating my own stress.

"Relax mom," I said and rolled my eyes. "If you relax, I'll relax."

"Just…take a chance Cashmire," She said with a small smile. "Not everything important in life is in your plans." She smiled at me again and then the regret look was back on her face and I knew the conversation was over.

Arizona was…hot. And pretty. But mostly hot. The towns I drove through were nice but average and the "scenes" I had read about on the internet weren't that memorable. What I liked the most, of all of it, was the desert.

Despite the heat and the dust, I liked the emptiness surrounding me. Even though I just looked at it through the window it was still like nothing I'd ever seen before. But even in all its glory it was still just a desert. Nothing too special. Nothing in it screamed freedom and adventure or key to relaxation.

And so I kept driving. My CD's were familiar and calming as I listened to them and I shifted every so often when the bottom of my legs stuck to the seat. But all the while I just kept driving, keeping to the schedule.

"_Moon River, wider than a mile,  
I'm crossing you in style some day."_

The car, despite the air freshener, smelled like sunscreen and I glared down at my traitorous pale skin. I had always burned so easily that I had to buy sun block in the bulk to keep from turning red all over. Over the years I had grown used to the smell but I still hated for the old car to smell bad.

Did that make me a neat freak?

Probably.

It's not like I hadn't ever been called that before.

In fact, I'm usually called that on a daily basis.

"_Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,  
wherever you're going I'm going your way."_

I frowned and squinted when I saw a weird shape up ahead. A cactus maybe? Or maybe something that had fallen off of someone's car? I wasn't sure but I was soon approaching it.

The figure, I noticed, seemed to be moving. Swaying, or rocking, back and forth as it….walked? I squinted again? An animal, of course. It had to be.

I hadn't seen another person (or car) on this road for hours and it'd been forever since I'd passed a town. No human would be this far out in the middle of nowhere unless they were built like a camel or had a death wish.

But as I got closer (when had I started to ease my foot off the gas?) I realized it was no animal. It was, in fact, a person. A person, in the middle of the desert, walking on the side of the road.

Despite the hazy heat and my dusty windshield I could make out broad shoulders (male?), covered by a wet, probably with sweat, t-shirt. The person was wearing a white baseball cap backwards but I could still see hair coming out from underneath it. I couldn't know, however, if it was the dust from the desert or his natural color that gave his hair a rusty, brown-ish, green-ish, tint.

"_Two drifters off to see the world.  
There's such a lot of world to see"_

I was suddenly beside the (suicidal?) man and my heart….stopped. Because as I stared out my window at the person on the side of the road…he turned his head and was starring directly back at me. A spark of fear raced through me, all of me, and I wasn't sure why. But it didn't really matter why either.

I took no time to assess his looks or try to evaluate his age before my foot found the pedal (that I still couldn't remember stepping off of) again and slamming it down hard. The car lurched at the sudden change in momentum and before I could catch my breath or still my now racing heart I was speeding away.

"_We're after the same rainbow's end-  
waiting 'round the bend,"_

I refused to look back at the man in my rear-view mirror, not even sure if he'd be there or not. After all, it could've been a mirage. A figment of my imagination. A result of too much sun.

Yes, that had to be it. That would explain the dizziness I had felt and the queer beat of my heart.

Yes, yes. That was it.

A mere trick of my mind.

That had to be it, because, if not, I could've sworn for a second, due to the eye contact we'd briefly made…that the man on the road had pink eyes.

Teal eyes?

I shook my head and laughed dryly at my foolishness. People don't have teal eyes. People don't walk in the middle of the dessert. And people definitely couldn't survive in this heat.

No, not possible.

It wasn't real.

Just a mirage.

Just my imagination.

'But,' I thought, biting my lip and refusing to look back because looking back might make it real, '…since when had I had an imagination?'

"_My huckleberry friend,  
Moon River and me."_

**So what did you guys think? Its impossible for me to try to update a story without having a knew idea. Review!**


	2. Eyes that see right through me

"Cashmire," The blonde girl before me said, a smile tugging at her lips and her eyes dancing. Her short blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her blue dress with a black stripe fluttered in the wind. "You look so sad Cashmire."

I shook my head. "Don't call me Cashmire," I told her but she just sent me a confused look before laughing and shaking her head as if I were a silly child that made a joke.

"What else would I call you?" She questioned, obviously amused.

"Courtney," I answered her, raisin my chin defiantly. "That's my name."

She frowned and looked at me strangely as if she were just told the grass was purple as was expected to believe it. Her bright hazel eyes lit up again and she just laughed.

"That's not your name, silly," She said with a laugh. "You're Cashmire."

"No," I said, my tone firm. "My name is Courtney. That's what people call me."

"Who calls you that?" Came another voice and I turned to see the gRey eyed girl. Somehow I had already known she was there but just hadn't seen her yet. Now she looked me over with a disapproving frown. "What's with you lately?" She asked with an accusing tone to her voice that made me blink. They both were so comfortable with me…like they knew who I was.

Like they understood.

I frowned, realizing I didn't know exactly who they were.

"She's just tired," The blonde defended me and I looked back at her child-like face. "She's been up looking for the bank robber all night, right Cashmire?"

Had I been? I thought hard.

"Yeah, that's right," I said, falling into my role and forgetting what the problem had been a few seconds ago. "I think I have the suspects narrowed down to two men. Now we just have to find them and-"

Suddenly the building we had been floating beside exploded and the force of the explosion sent me flying into the side of the neighboring building. I blinked my eyes open to see the fire and the mayhem around me.

"You okay?" The blonde asked, flying up to where I was imprinted into the other building. I pushed myself out of my hole and back into the sky.

"Yeah," I muttered. I was okay, not a scratch.

"Come on, lets find out who did this," She said but I didn't follow her as she flew away.

I stared dumbly at the building in front of me, watching the flames dance and the black smoke billow up into the sky. I watched as fire trucks came flying down the street, ready to fight the flames. But al the while I didn't move.

"Are you coming?" Yelled the grey eyed girl, her voice annoyed.

I just looked at her, confused. What was I supposed to do?

"Whatever," She muttered before turning and flying away. I just shook my head and turned back to the building. It was now being doused by about six hoses but the flames still roared dangerously.

'What's going on?' I thought desperately.

I felt helpless as I watched the destroyed building. I didn't know what to do or say. I began to panic, shaking my head to try to clear the image but I could still hear the sirens.

"Wake up…" A voice whispered around me.

I shut my eyes tighter and the sound of the sirens and fire became muffled.

"Wake up…" The voice repeated.

I took a deep breath.

And woke up.

I looked around small motel room, frowning. My hair was stuck to my cheek and I blinked my tired eyes as I tried to fully wake up. The mattress I was laying on creaked as I sat up in bed, the covers pooling around my waist as I stretched.

'2 a.m.' the clock on the nightstand read and I looked at it with a sigh.

Was it really that early?

I frowned, thinking back to my dream.

When I was four I started having these strange dreams. This, obviously, caused no alarm because I was young and little kids are known for their strange dreams. My issue? I never stopped having the same dream.

It always started out the same. I was…floating above Binary galaxy, looking down at it. Sometimes an explosion would occur, sometimes a monster would pop out, but most of the time I'd just be floating there, doing nothing. But no matter what happened three things remained constant in every dream:

First of all, everyone called me by my real name. Sometimes it'd be people down below, screaming for me, sometimes I'd hear it whispered around me, a mocking echo, but mostly I was called it by the one of the other consistent attributes: the two girls.

The two girls, who were always somehow there, seemed to have some sort of significance I could never figure out. There was a blonde with bright hazel eyes who always seemed to smile at me or giggle. She seemed ditzy and sometimes careless but nevertheless she was always there. The other girl had black hair and grey eyes and what seemed like a permanent scowl. She was loud and looked constantly annoyed. Through the years the two girls had aged with me, going from little kids to seventeen year olds simultaneously with me. I didn't know who they were. I didn't even know what they were.

And the last thing that was always, always constant, was the end of my dream. Weather there be a giant monster, burning building, or just a slight rain, I had always ended my dream the same way. Out of the blue, in the midst of the fighting and fear my nightmares sometimes placed me in, a voice would murmur around me, in me, and I always seemed to be the only one to hear it.

'Wake up,' It'd say, and if I focused hard enough, I would.

The thing I'd always hated, besides the bewilderment the dreams gave me, was the pain they put me through.

Yes, that's right, pain.

Because even for a child, the same dream over and over again is a rare occurrence. And as the years went on my parents became slightly…alarmed by the continuous dreams. And so, on my tenth birthday, I began my therapy.

It was painful, being so young, as well as embarrassing to have to see a therapist. But despite my mother's protest (she thought therapists were wack) my father, always a man of science and logic, finally took me to see Doctor Hadley.

Doctor Hadley was a sweet woman and her office was always neat and orderly which made me feel comfortable. Well, at least as comfortable as I could be given the circumstances.

But over the years I'd grown use to Doctor Hadley, or Jane as she let her patients call her. It had become a habit to go in there and tell her all the details of all my dreams and then have her try to explain what they meant. And over the years we'd gotten to know each other. Well, she had gotten to know me. And her knowledge of me led to her analysis of my dreams.

I create this other world, she'd told me, because it is symbolic to how I feel. The constant danger and destruction I put Binary galaxy in is a representation of how hectic and chaotic I feel the real world around me is.

The reason, she had derived, that people called me by my real name is because in my other world people knew me there. I (unbeknownst to me) was secretly afraid that people wouldn't like me if I let my "perfect" facade down and so in my dreams I had created a world where everyone knew just who I was and accepted it. I didn't like this explanation too much but she seemed happy with it so I always just nodded my head.

The two girls, she reasoned, were different sides of me. Sides I didn't let people see. There was the airy, silly girl side and the loud and aggressive side, both expressed by girls who aged along with me. I thought this was stupid but said nothing. She was the professional after all.

Over the years I had (embarrassingly enough) revealed to her that I was a superhero in my dreams. This statement seemed childish to me but to her it seemed like another, wonderful symbolic element.

I was a superhero, she told me, because of my supreme need be in control of everything around me and my want to keep everything in order. This seemed a bit over the top, I mean, a superhero? It was understandable for a child to dream of being a super being but a teen?

No, as much as I liked Doctor Hadley I could never quite settle for her explanations.

They were thought out and understandable, but each of them made me sound like a head case or a child with a wild imagination. And for some reason they never set right with me.

But I always accepted them. Always nodded and said 'Yes, that makes sense,' because no matter what I could never explain to her how eerily right the dreams felt. Even when they were scary I felt in my place. Sometimes I'd know exactly what to do while I was dreaming, other times I'd be confused and panicked. But I always knew exactly where I was and with whom.

But maybe that meant it really was my dream world, a place for me to escape to and save.

And maybe that meant I was a head case. Because, really, who has the same dreams there whole life?

I frowned and shook my head. Oh well, there was no use trying to figure them out now. What I should be worrying about is why I woke up so early. I had never woken up from a dream that fast. Usually they played out a bit more, but this one just ended.

So that meant something had woken me up.

I looked around the motel room but it was empty and the only sound from inside was the dripping of the sink in the bathroom that had been going on since I got in. Outside I could hear the highway as a few cars passed. I was used to cars a nighttime (thanks to living in Binary galaxy) so that wasn't too strange or anything that would've woken me up.

I sat still and quietly, straining my ears to hear. I ignored the slight fear in my belly because I was, after all, a girl alone in a dingy motel, and tried to listen. Fear would get me nowhere.

That's when I heard something else, the thing that must've made me wake up.

"I just need a room," A voice said from outside. The door to my room was thin and un-sturdy and the voices could be heard clearly through it. I held my breath and listened.

"If you don't have money, then I can't help you," Said another voice I immediately recognized as the man I'd gotten the key from at the front desk earlier. The manager.

"I'll do some work," The first voice, defiantly male, suggested. I could hear the charm in his tone as he tried to cajole the manager into giving him a room. "I'm really good with my hands, so if there are any repairs that you need done-"

"No," The manager cut him off. "I'm sorry, I only take money. We don't allow wanderers to stay here. So you best be on your way, young man. It's late and I need to get back to the desk."

I bit my lip.

Young man?

Technically this was a motel on a busy highway and there were many young men in the world. But still, my mind mulled over the possibility, as slight as it was, that the young man outside was the one from the road.

It was unlikely. Very unlikely.

But still that was the first thing that arose in my mind. I quickly shook the rest of the sleep from my brain before sliding out of the bed. The mattress creaked a bit, giving me away, but I continued to move. When I got to the window I crouched down and peaked through a slightly slanted blind so that I could see outside.

"Of course," The first voice said and I stared at the two men a little ways outside my door.

The fat man was the manager. His gray hair was illuminated by the lights on the awning above him and I could see him watch the other man skeptically, his eyes untrusting but tired.

Then I looked over at the other man, or the "wanderer" as the manager had labeled him, and my body felt suddenly very cold, like someone with icy hands had grabbed a hold of me. I sucked in a breath and stared.

There he was, standing there, seemingly relaxed and wide awake. It was the man from the side of the road. His white hat and gray t-shirt the same as earlier. But now that I was closer to him I realized in my earlier rush and haste that I hadn't gotten a good look at him.

The man outside was hardly a man. He looked to be about my age, maybe a little older, just a boy. His shoulders were broad and his jaw was strong like a man, but his smile was boyish and his eyes were young.

And his eyes, to my relief, weren't teal. In the dim light I could see that they shown a light hazel. A mix of green and brown that was normal and safe and made him seem more human and less like the demon murderer I had secretly thought he was when I'd first driven by him.

The tips of his hair that stuck out from beneath his cap were definitely not affected by the dust. No, the bla k locks were definitely his own and I stared at the strange color. It was almost a pure mix between brown and green dark and rusty looking and unlike my solid brown locks.

"Now, you get out of here," The manager said, his voice firm and I held my breath, scared. What if the boy was a murderer, or a thief (or a murderer), or a rapist (or a murderer), or a psychopath?

Would he kill the man for not giving him a room?

I watched, immobile, as the boy just smiled again, his pearly teeth gleaming and bright. I noticed then that he had an eyebrow piercing that glinted when the light hit it. The studs above and below his dark brow made him even more threatening looking and I feared for the manager's (as well as my own) life.

"Sorry to inconvenience you," The boy said instead, his slow voice like honey as he just smiled politely. I waited, still worried he'd pull out a gun and shoot, but nothing happened as the old man turned and walked away from him and back to the office.

I sighed and tried to quell my fear, feeling suddenly foolish. I had lived in a city my whole life. A place bouncing with crime and strange men, but never before had I been afraid. I was always careful, always safe.

So why was I worrying?

My door was locked. The blinds were closed. He had no idea I was here or who I was. I was being paranoid for nothing. He was just going to walk away, back out into the desert and disappear.

Yes, that was it. He'd just leave.

"Go away," I whispered. As if he heard me the boy turned and stepped off the concrete walkway and into the parking lot. I watched his back as he left, feeling relieved, glad the strange boy was leaving.

But then he stopped and I felt my breath hitch again. He turned, slowly, to look at something. I could make out the frown on his face and the concentrated look in his eyes as he tried to work something out. He seemed to be trying to remember something, as if he saw something familiar but couldn't think of where he'd seen it before.

I looked to see what he was staring at, my curiosity at this point winning over everything else. I caught sight of what he was staring at and before I could stop it a foul curse dropped from my lips.

My car.

He was staring at my car with a far off, concentrated look.

Did he remember me from earlier? Did he recognize the car and remember how I'd sped off like a fool? Was he mad I hadn't given him a ride? Was he going to kill me?

"Oh God," I whispered as he just shook his head and looked back at the motel, directly at my room. Directly at me.

I hit the floor fast. Hoping he hadn't been able to see me in the window. My breath was ragged as I lay on my stomach, my heart pounding in my ears and my hair spilled out around me.

I waited a few minutes that felt like hours. My mind made horrible scenarios, making the boy outside a crazy murderer that killed everyone who didn't give him a ride. Each scene was scarier and scarier and I tried fruitlessly to quell my fears.

Why didn't I bring a friend along?

At least then….I frowned at myself. Fear made me foolish. Having a friend with me would be pointless. All that would do would make there be two murders instead of just one. Despite the fact that I would feel safer at the moment with someone else there, I still wouldn't wish for my friend to be there too.

If the boy was a killer, then I could only hope he would just walk away.

After a while I rose to my knees, my body rigid. I timidly leaned towards the window, the sound of my own breathing loud to my ears. I feared he'd be right outside my window, looking back at me, but when I glanced out there was no one there.

The parking lot was empty and the boy was gone.

I let out a long breath, feeling better but still tense with fear.

I climbed back into the bed, knowing I wouldn't get back to sleep but trying anyway. I prayed for my consistent dreams, my nightly routine. They were normal, even though they were technically weird. But at least I could handle them, at least they were just make-believe.

Unlike a certain wander who was very scary and, despite my first assumption, very real too.

"There you go," The waitress said as she smiled at me. I smiled back but then immediately focused on my breakfast. The pancakes smelled heavenly and I had already gulped down my glass of milk.

It seems fear makes me ravenous.

I began to eat, relaxing in the booth and digging in. The diner was small and mildly crowded with truckers and travelers and I enjoyed the feel of other humans around me. Their loud, boisterous talk usually would annoy me, especially so early in the morning, but I was glad to be alive and eating.

About halfway through my second pancake a bell chimed to signify the door to the diner opening up and I looked over to see who had come in. Another family? Another trucker? A young couple out to see the world?

But my fork hit my plate when I caught sight of a person wearing a white cap walking into the restaurant. I bit my lip and looked around. No one else seemed too concerned or even noticed the new presence in the room but to me it felt like my whole world had screeched to a halt.

Even though it was crowded I felt very alone and scared all of the sudden and I looked around the place, hoping to find another exit.

What if he was in here looking for the owner of the station wagon? What if he was here to kill me in front of all these people?

I swallowed the food in my mouth although I was hardly hungry anymore and my teeth abused my lower lip as I chewed on it in fear and nervousness. I tried to think of a plan but nothing came to mind except run. Run as far as you can.

This wasn't part of my original plan. This wasn't in my schedule. I hadn't thought there'd be a crazy wanderer following me everywhere I went. I didn't plan on being killed on this "relaxing" journey.

I stood up slowly, praying he didn't notice me. He didn't seem to and instead he was talking to a waitress, his white smile in place and his piecing noticeable against his tanned skin. I took the distraction while I could and after dropping the money on the table I walked towards the door.

My legs felt slow and my body was tense but finally I passed him and was out the door and into the scorching heat. My flip-flops clapped loudly as I hustled to my car. I thought briefly about the waitress in there talking to the wanderer.

By her blush and her stance I knew she was flirting with the boy and her eyes danced with attraction. I wondered if she knew she was flirting with danger. Would she be alright? Would he hurt her?

I tugged open my door and plopped down into my seat. The air was hot and choking as I jammed the key in the ignition and reared the car up. I locked the door before throwing the car into reverse and pulling out from my spot.

With one last look at the diner I switched the car into drive and hit the gas. The highway wasn't very busy but there were enough cars around me that I didn't feel like I stuck out. As I pushed down on the accelerator more I let out a breath.

"There," I whispered as I reached over and turned on the radio. "He's gone now."

And I breathed easily as I watched the dessert whirl by me.

This was not part of the plan.

No, this was no where near what I had thought and planned out.

I had thought the wanderer was going to be my only obstacle this journey. Obviously, I was wrong. I had gotten away from him. At least twenty miles down the road. But unfortunately I had more trails I had to face.

I ran my hands through my hair, the sweaty strands were tangles and I sighed in frustration. The heat wasn't helping my temper and neither was the dust stirred up by cars that drove by me. My eyes and throat stung from the dirt and I glared down at the traitorous flat tire my car was now sporting.

"Who leaves a beer bottle in the road, honestly!?" I shouted, kicking the flat tire with mounting anger and ignoring the pain shooting through my foot. Now here I was, stranded in the middle of the desert with a flat tire and a ton of strangers driving by and showering me with little rocks and dust.

I knew I wasn't going to be able to fix the tire on my own so I went back into the car, the air-conditioner a welcomed feeling. I shut (and locked) my door before grabbing my cell phone from the consol.

Briefly I considered calling home. My dad would somehow find a helicopter in order to come get me if I needed it. He'd always been against this trip and all I'd have to do was mention a weird wanderer and he'd be here in a heartbeat, not even waiting to hear about the flat tire.

But even though calling home would delight my father I knew my mother wouldn't be so thrilled. She wouldn't be mad. No, she'd kiss and hug me and say she was sorry for pushing the trip on me but in the end I'd know she was really only sorry that I hadn't had a good time. That I hadn't been free spirited or adventurous.

Maybe Doctor Hadley was right. Maybe I wanted my parents' (and everyone else's) acceptance too much. Maybe I strived too much on approval. Whatever it was, it was keeping me from calling home. From admitting defeat. From telling my mom that not only was I nothing like her but I was also a failure at surviving on my own.

And so I jammed my cell phone into my pocket, grabbed my purse and sat still. The radio buzzed in my ear, an old Neil Young song that I tuned out as I sat thinking.

"When I was a hitchhiker on the road  
I had to count on you"

It probably wasn't a far walk back into town. I could get there, get a toe-truck, and be back on the road by nightfall. It'd slow my schedule down but I'd have to live. Sitting in the car all day wouldn't help anyway.

"But you needed me to ease the load  
And for conversation too"

And so I killed the engine and pocketed my keys. Making sure to lock the doors, I began to walk back towards the town, leaving my car stranded on the side of the highway. The heat was immense but I had to deal.

"Or did you just drive on  
Did you just drive on?"

My shirt clung to my back and sweat pooled in the dip of my bra as well as other places. Cars kept driving by, sometimes slowing down but when I didn't look up or pay them heed they'd just keep driving by.

I swallowed a mouthful of dust. My eyes stung and I felt like all the liquid was being drained from my pores. My skin, wet with sweat, was slightly pink and I had already, undoubtedly, sweated off my sunscreen.

"Did you just drive on through?"

I sighed and my breath was short. I had been walking for probably an hour now and my legs were tired and burning.

Never before had Binary galaxy ever been this hot. I could only hope the town was closer then I remembered it to be because if not I just might burn to death before I made it there.

As I walked I began to imagine the mechanic walking towards me, tool box in hand and ready to help me out. He'd fix my car fast and I'd be on the road before I knew it. The schedule would be saved and so would I.

I grinned at my train of thought, my imagination so strong I could practically see the mechanic walking towards me now, his walk slow and casual, his form approaching slowly. I blinked and the image was still there, in the midst of the haze of heat and the cloud of dust.

I slowed, staring at the hallucination ahead of me. And then I stopped all together, the heat no longer on my mind and my body feeling suddenly very cold and inflexible.

I felt like sighing.

I should have known earlier that my imagination wasn't that good.

No, there was no tool box in the hand of the approaching figure. And it was no mechanic either. No, fate wouldn't let me have that kind of luck.

"Hey!" The figure called and I tried to look calm as I watched the wanderer approach me, his grin slightly strained and his tanned skin flushed from the heat. He was about six feet from me when he stopped. I hoped if he pulled out a gun to shoot me the passing cars would take notice.

I realized with a jolt that it was my turn to talk and I cleared my throat, willing my voice not to shake.

"Hello," I said evenly and I almost sighed in relief. I hoped he'd just keep walking and leave me to my own business but he didn't and instead we both remained rooted in our spots, staring at each other.

"Are you lost?" He finally asked, his hazel eyes looking into my own and making me flinch. He noticed my grimace and his smile became even more strained and the skin around his eyes became tight.

Oh god, had I made him mad? Was he going to kill me now?

I licked my dry lips quickly in hopes to amend myself before he decided to cut my throat. "I'm kind of on my way back to town." I said, hoping he got the hint and let me pass. "So if you don't mind…" I trailed off.

"If I don't mind what?" He asked, raising his eyebrow, the one with the eyebrow piercing. I let out a raged breath and ran my fingers through my sweaty hair in nervousness.

"Um, letting me continue on my way," I mumbled, still hoping he'd not kill me.

His brow furrowed together at that statement and his grin slid off his face. "You're the one who stopped walking first," He said, his tone wasn't harsh but it had lost that charming quality I'd heard in it before. "I was just being polite."

What?

I did remember stopping first, but…but still! He didn't have to stop too!

Since when were psychotic, deranged killers polite?

"Oh, well," I fumbled, still apprehensive around him. I looked at my feet but then look quickly back up at him incase he attacked while I wasn't looking. "I-I guess I'll be going now."

I sidestepped around him and was about to make it by when his voice reached my ears, making me stop.

"You'll die before you reach the town," He said and my body became rigid again and I felt my breath catch in my throat. I had been so close! And now I was going to die on a highway in the middle of the dessert.

"O-oh?" I said, trying to sound casual, hoping he'd look away enough for me to start to run. But his hazel eyes were steady and controlled and I breathed uneasily. Now we were closer, I could reach out and touch him if I wanted.

"Yeah," He said, sounding a lot more casual than I had managed. "You're sweating too much; you'll be dehydrated within an hour." He finished and I blinked. And then blinked again.

Was he tricking me? Mocking me?

Dehydrate? That's how he thought I was going to die? Not by him?

"What about you?" I countered, trying to get him to stop playing mind games and admit he was trying to kill me. "Won't you dehydrate?" I questioned.

"I have water," He said, and then he lifted a strap off his shoulder to indicate a worn out backpack I hadn't realized he had. Was that where the murder weapon was?

"Oh," I said plainly, inching back a step.

He watched me calmly as I twitched nervously again. Run, just run.

"Do you need help or anything?" He asked and this time he sounded charming again, the tone in his voice that I hardly trusted for a second. I frowned at him and his dashing smile.

"No, it was just a flat tire, I'll be fine," I said evenly. Run, just run.

"A flat tire?" He repeated. "That's my specialty." He said and then he shrugged as he turned and began walking in the direction I had come from. His pace was casual but faster than mine had been and I watched as he walked away. Towards my car. I hesitated, looking at his back and then towards the vast nothingness in the direction of the town.

As much as I hated to trust him, he wasn't lying when he said I'd die before I got there. I knew that, I had just been trying to ignore that fact. But in truth the heat would be the end of me if I kept walking.

But if I went with him…

Either way I was dead, but with him I'd have a slight chance.

I sucked in a breath and nodded in determination. My mind was panicked slightly, still worried about my appending death and the fact that my schedule was messing up as I hesitated, but my body began walking.

"Hey!" I shouted and it felt like the heat morphed my words and slowed my thoughts. "Wait up!" I shouted again, and this time he turned and stopped. The desert stretched out around him, the road to his side, and his eyes met mine evenly.

"I'm coming," I said as I got closer, refusing to run, knowing the effort would be too much.

He just watched as I got closer, his face and body tense and still. Fear coursed through me but I ignored it as I reached him. We stood awkwardly for a moment before he turned and began walking again.

My feet hurt and my head ached from the heat and I was slightly glad, but still apprehensive, when I noticed he had slowed his pace down so that I didn't have to stumble after him.

I looked at him from the corner of my eyes as we walked. His skin was dark and his muddy black hair looked too soft to have been in the desert all day. The skin stretch across his high cheekbones was littered with tiny freckles from the sun and a pink spot under his eye stood out thanks to overexposure to the heat and the light.

As I stared sneakily at him he turned his eyes to me, catching me in the act. My face felt aflame from the heat and my new blush that sprung across my cheeks form being caught. I swallowed and looked away quickly, embarrassed and scared that I had been staring.

From the corner of my eye I saw him look away and up ahead at the desert in front of us, his smile spreading on his lips again.

Oh lord, what had I gotten myself into?

There you go. Hope that was okay.

I'm not sure, but I think this one is harder to write then my other one but I'm trying.

Tell me what you think.

I'm kinda using ppg As a inference of sorts just like I did with attraction. Idk I just like superpowers but yeah it's just a dream or is it lol  
And oh yeah, what do you think is the best smell for a guy? I can't decide. :-)


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